The Avatar and Her Idiot
by floofyMiko
Summary: Short little drabbles featuring Korra and Mako, a collaboration with choco-sushi-nut for Makorra Month 2012.
1. red string of fate

**_The Avatar and Her Idiot: Makorra Month Drabblebending  
_**_Day#2: __red . string . of . f a t e_

.

She ran into his arms, arms that caught her, solid and warm. Drawn together by the invisible thread that binds. She leapt; they twirled. An embrace of promise, of love unwavering, of a future together.

When did she know they were meant for each other?

When did he know he would lose his mind if he had to be apart from her?

Their lips met, and it felt like home. It felt like two people in perfect understanding, two hearts in perfect match, two souls in perfect harmony.

May the Avatar and her City Boy begin their path to eternity.


	2. faith

**_The Avatar and Her Idiot: Makorra Month Drabblebending  
_**_Day#4: f a i t.h_

.

She woke up startled from sleep one dreary morning, a storm thundering against the windowpanes, a matching deluge of tears running down her face.

His arms were around her in an instant, his lips in her hair muttering words of reassurance, the faint scent of smoke and last night's passion still lingering on his skin.

She choked out a single name and with it came a flood of memories, a torrent of despair, of recent wounds and biding demons and a man in a mask.

_I hated feeling so useless. So worthless, so helpless, so _alone_..._

He hushed her with a kiss. He murmured his promises. Blue eyes met gold, unspoken need sparkling in tears yet to fall.

"_Korra. _Believe me," he said, he vowed, gently wiping the moisture away.

And she did.


	3. selflessness

A/N: A somewhat darker, highly experimental take on this theme? Trigger warning jic: thoughts of suicide.

_**The Avatar and Her Idiot: Makorra Month Drabblebending**_  
_Day#6: self less ness  
_

.

_How could you ever consider doing something like that?_

His voice shattered the glass walls she had so painstakingly built around herself. She had been so ready; like the sparkling teardrop, twinkling on its descent, it would have been so easy to fall and shatter upon the rocks and waves below.

She was just one person. A handful would mourn her. Then the Avatar would be reborn, rising from the ashes of an incompetent predecessor, centuries of power made manifest in a bender who would actually be able to protect her loved ones and restore balance to the world.

_I don't care if you're the Avatar or not. I love you, Korra._

Didn't he understand? The world needed its Avatar, and she had failed.

_But _I _need you. Can't you see? You're _my _world now. I would do anything for you._

She had tried to be selfless, letting go of the ties that bound; he had countered it with his selfishness, refusing to let go of a broken girl.

They say only fools fall in love. Quite the pair of fools they made, both beyond willing to sacrifice themselves for the other. _I would give myself up so you could live._

Fairytales worked that way. Whether they qualified for that sort of pedestal was up for debate.

Their love wasn't.


	4. miscommunication

_**The Avatar and Her Idiot: Makorra Month Drabblebending**_  
_Day#8: m i s communication  
_

_._

She finally burst one day after nearly a week of silent glares.

"I thought I made it very clear, Mako: I don't need any babying! I can pull my own weight around here!" Her voice boomed in their shared apartment. Her stare was livid, accusatory; her hands clenched at her sides, dark, puffy shadows rimming her bloodshot eyes.

"And _I _thought I made it very clear I don't do these things to baby you." He resisted the urge to yell back. No use fighting fire with fire. He turned back to the sink, sponge in hand, and continued to scrub at a pile of soiled dishes that had built up in the last few days.

She made a sound of frustration. "Look, I'm pregnant. Not an invalid."

"I'm aware," he said carefully. "But you've been so busy with your duties as the Avatar... I just thought I'd take care of some things." He took a deep breath, a furrow forming between his brows. "Take a look at yourself in the mirror, Korra. You're stressed. It's not healthy." Pause. "For you _or _the baby."

She fell silent. He turned on the faucet to fill the void with the sound of running water. She stormed away, heavy footsteps in the direction of their bedroom. He set his lips in a grim line, rinsing and drying, evaporating the moisture from his hands when he was done.

The door swung open with little effort, and he found his young wife sitting cross-legged on their bed, her back towards him and her face turned upward towards the sunlight.

"Korra? Can we talk?"

She didn't respond and he threw caution into the wind, hugging her from behind as he settled his weight onto the bed. "Hey..."

"I'm so tired of talking," she said all of a sudden. She sat stiffly, refusing to lean into his embrace.

"Korra, you've got to tell me what's going on so I can help—"

"And that's the whole point!" she exploded, shrugging away from his touch, shifting her body to the side. He caught a glimpse of her face and was surprised to find it wet with tears. Without thinking he reached out to still her movement, cradling her face in his hands, swiping his thumbs across her cheeks.

She now grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut. "I just hate feeling useless, like I always have to be _helped_. Especially now." Her voice came out in a ragged whisper. "I've been useless _all _week. Everyone at the council thinks so. And then I come home and you're always doing _everything..._"

He brushed the matted bangs from her forehead, hating to see his strong, confident wife like this. "You're far from useless," he murmured. "I just wish you'd told me earlier about feeling like this. You're burnt out, you haven't been getting your rest—"

"I mean, they're right, aren't they? We just sit around and _talk. _And then it's like, how can I expect to take care of Republic City and the world when I can't even manage my own household? Who _cares _if I'm a powerful bender? I can't take care of _anything_. And now everyone's treating me as if I'm just some silly, hormonal pregnant woman!" She sniffed loudly and glowered at him, an open dare to disagree.

"Korra, stop. You need to stop thinking like that. Change takes time. And no one expects you to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders." He held up a hand when she began to protest. "Listen to me. I know you. You're strong, and confident, and you're _mine._"

She shrugged at that last bit, the tiniest hint of a smile playing the edge of her lips, and he took that as an invitation to continue. "And you know me. I'm yours, and you know I would _never _make the mistake of doubting your capabilities." The smile looked as if it was getting wider. "You also know that I do things not because you _need _me to. It's because I care about you, and that's just what I do for the people I love. It's what I'm used to." Her smile turned sheepish, and she raised a hand to shield her eyes. Of course she knew, of course she recalled what he had to go through with Bolin. He pecked her on the forehead.

"So are we clear on that now?" he asked, brushing the back of his hand fondly against the curve of her jawline, a tender look in his amber eyes. "I'm sorry if I made you feel at all inadequate. Let me do my thing, and you'll find yourself better equipped to deal with the outside world, okay?"

She nodded and bit her lip. "I'm sorry I yelled at you for just... being you."

He raised a single eyebrow. "Why would I ever want to be anyone else when _I'm _the lucky one you love?"

She laughed, the first time he'd heard it in weeks. "Glad we had this talk. Now, husband of mine, if you could just kiss me, please."

He smirked, happy to oblige; there was no worry about miscommunicating here.

* * *

A/N: Blame the hormones guys, just blame the hormones lol. This one is definitely different compared to the first three chapters. What do you guys prefer and why?


	5. insomnia

A/N: Emotional headcanons ahoy! Still experimenting with their characters.

_**The Avatar and Her Idiot: Makorra Month Drabblebending**_  
_Day#10: i n s.o m.n i a  
_

_._

An entire week goes by before she realizes he hasn't been sleeping.

Usually when she sleeps she is dead to the world. Tonight, she rolls over in their shared bed and wakes when her outstretched arm meets a flat expanse of smooth, untouched sheets instead of a solid, familiar body. The spot beside her is empty; in fact, it's cold.

She bolts upright. She hasn't forgotten how to fear the darkness, her heart gripping with the thought of a loved one in danger.

She shouts his name into the silent twilight, fighting a rising wave of panic.

It's too quiet, it takes too long for him to answer, but maybe it's just her.

And finally, finally he responds through the shroud of night. "Korra. It's okay. I'm over here."

She doesn't think. She just moves, practically runs into his waiting arms in the other room, his voice an anchor.

He says nothing, just holds her for a while until she looks up at him, blue eyes like pearls in the moonlight.

"Why aren't you in bed?" she asks, shivering slightly in the pre-dawn chill.

He shakes his head as he runs his hands up and down her exposed arms. Just the feel of his touch is as soothing as the heat it brings. "Can't sleep."

She looks up, takes in the the puffy purple bruises under his eyes, and knows he doesn't just mean this one night. She looks up, takes in the red scarf draped securely around his neck over his nightclothes, and knows he isn't just restless. Something clicks in her mind, a specific date. Tomorrow's date. She hides her face in the crook of his neck. "Mako..."

He doesn't need to explain, not anymore, but he does anyway. "Twelve years, Korra. Sometimes I still can't believe they're gone. But you know what I remember the most, though? Besides all the flames?"

Of course she has no answer; his next words spill out like rushing rapids over a shattered dam.

"Running back to the house, waking Bolin up, having him complain. He's rubbing his eyes, worst bedhead you can imagine. And he asks me, 'Mako, where's pancakes?' Because it's the first of the month, and our mom always made Bolin's favorite apple pancakes for breakfast on the first of the month. I just drag him out of bed, me tugging, him yawning." He pauses, like he's forgotten what comes next. But that's impossible.

"Instead of pancakes frying in the morning, all I smell is the lingering stench of burnt flesh."

_It's wrong. It's so wrong... _

She says nothing. There is nothing to say. She hugs him as tightly as possible. She needs to protect eight-year-old Mako from the demons who slay parents, from monsters who would forever take away a six-year-old's special meal.

The seconds pass; the minutes tick by. "Will you come back to bed?" she finally asks. She hates that there's a plea in her voice.

"Don't think so, Korra. But you should sleep."

Her supplication turns to stubbornness. "I won't leave you." She snuggles closer, tucking herself into his side, the two of them nestled against the cool windowpane. "If you won't come back to bed with me... will you tell me about them? Your parents? Do you think they'd like me?"

The barest hint of a smile. "That, I think I can do." He unravels the scarf from his neck only to wrap it around both of them.

"And yes, they would."


	6. red

_**The Avatar and Her Idiot: Makorra Month Drabblebending**_  
_Day#12: r e d_

.

He saw red.

For as long as he could remember, Papa had had that scarf. It was finely woven, smooth to the touch, its hue dark and rich and warm. A beautiful color. He found himself admiring it from time to time, artfully draped around his father's neck. Once, inquisitive as any child, he asked Papa why he hardly ever took it off.

_Your mother always said I looked dashing in this scarf, _explained Papa with a wink, the corners of his bright brown eyes crinkling pleasantly.

That morning Papa let him borrow it; either the scarf was too long or he was too small because Papa had to wrap it three times around his neck to keep it from dragging on the ground. And sure, it made him a bit _too _toasty (it was unseasonably warm for autumn), but he didn't care because Mama was holding his hand and smiling and calling him a _handsome young man. _He swelled with pride, and a quick glance at Papa told him he was proud, too.

.

He saw red.

Fire, so much fire. Flickering heat, hungry, consuming. His eyes watered, but he couldn't stop staring; his throat tightened, and he couldn't scream. _Firebenders_, he realized, hiding in the shadow of the alleyway. Men in dark hoods, worn clothing, their faces concealed.

_Is this what evil looks like? _he wondered, too scared to cry.

They finished their work, digging through pockets, poking around his parents' remains with their feet. Then they left. He didn't watch them go. He buried his face into the fibers of his father's final keepsake and turned in the opposite direction, pumping his short legs, running as if his life depended on it. He had to get back to Bolin.

He fought back the urge to vomit.

.

He saw red.

Flames flying from his hands, with a swing of his arm, a sweep of his legs. He ducked and dodged, the roar of the watching crowd reduced to a dull hum in his ears. The other team's firebender had spirit and tenacity, he'd give him that. But his moves were too wild, too much wasted energy; he was slowing down, obviously running out of breath.

An earth disk came barreling his way and Bolin took care of it, as expected. Mako inhaled deeply, chi coursing through his body, and executed a series of powerful kicks and punches he'd strategized to secure their victory.

And they won, the cheers growing louder as they removed their headgear. His brother basked in it, posing to the crowd's endless delight, drawing out distinctly feminine screams of approval. Mako merely looked down at the patch of color on his helmet that indicated his bending element, his identity in the arena. He caught his face reflected in the visor's glass, glad to have won another match.

But mostly he was glad they had money for a couple more meals.

.

He saw red.

Who was this girl? Why did she have to confess like that? Why couldn't he stop thinking about her, even with the Sato heiress on his arm?

It was maddening, it was infuriating, it left him ridiculously confused. Because there was Asami, this perfect woman, well-mannered and self-sufficient, dressed in shades of red; everything about her made sense. And then there was Korra, this cocky girl, rash and imprudent, dressed in shades of blue; nothing about her made sense.

His foolish heart lept at the thought of the latter.

He didn't understand. It was unfair. There was some four-letter word that might've shed a sliver of light on this predicament, but he pushed it aside and dismissed it as folly. It was absurd. It only applied to Bolin, and to two people who no longer walked this earth.

.

He saw red.

_Avatar Korra. Where are you keeping her?!_

It seemed to take no effort whatsoever, holding that Equalist grunt up against the wall. His element flared hot and angry, dancing at his fist, there not to win a game but to threaten a life. At that moment he didn't care. This desire to find her, to make sure she was safe? It consumed him, it was an overwhelming need that boiled up from within, it was an uncontrollable burn, and he would willingly burn to ashes.

_Korra!_

In his rage he could think of nothing but her.

_Korra!_

He had no choice. He would protect her, stay with her once she was found, and never let her go.

.

_At the end of it all he stood there, watching and waiting beside Naga, the sea below and the sky above._

_She was back. She was his._

_.  
_

He saw red.

It was in the lovely tint of her lips when parted for a kiss, that flicker of tongue, that greedy little look in her eyes as she stood on tiptoe, grabbing at the back of his neck, pulling him down for more.

It was in the undeniable heat of their passion, the electricity of her touch, he was home again, finally, and he let himself fall into the endless expanse of her sky blue eyes; he saw dedication, he saw acceptance, he saw a future.

And he saw love.

* * *

A/N: I had _major _writer's block trying to write this prompt ugh, sorry for the bad writing! It's like, how do I english!? I'm sure you saw it deteriorating as it went along, so I really apologize for this huge COP-OUT. My excuse is that I'm really busy this weekend with NYCC! I'll make up for this, I promise!

(I'll try my darndest, anyway...)


	7. quiver

A/N: Overdue, sorry! NYCC, exhaustion, and crappy writing skills are to blame...

_**The Avatar and Her Idiot: Makorra Month Drabblebending**_  
_Day#14: q u.i v e r_

.

Quick and fleeting. Blink and you'd miss it. A tiny spark before an explosive fire, a quiet sputter before a massive eruption, a single raindrop before a mighty storm. Her lip wobbled once and that was all the warning you got. Wonder for a second; everything would be painfully clear in the next. Because when she was mad, you knew it. He simply learned to see it a heartbeat before everyone else (a whole lot of good _that _did him, though).

.

A tremor, barely noticeable. A faint pulse. She bit her bottom lip in an attempt to repress the involuntary trembling. She was in the habit of concealing her insecurities but he would always be able to read her. Sure, she stood her ground in the face of a challenge, and sure, when people pushed she never failed to push back. But she wasn't always the one in control; navigating the outside world, the _political _world required an alternate style of gameplay. Rules differed from those of the probending arena: they were a far more subtle, a lot easier to break. The stakes were higher, too. He placed no blame whenever nerves got the better of her. Especially because she always barreled on, muffled her doubts, and did everything with force and conviction.

.

Rare but noisy. A telltale chatter of teeth. Despite growing up in the Water Tribe and being a firebender, Korra was not impervious to winter's chill. She tried to hide it, so fond of her independence and self-reliance as she was, but the gooseflesh on her bare arms betrayed her. He said nothing, throwing a blanket around her shoulders, tucking the ends in carefully. He said nothing, raising his own body temperature by just the right amount, wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace. And the trembling would cease, and her lips would curl instead into a content, relaxed, satisfied smile.

.

The least subtle but most delicate of all. No way he'd ever mistake it for something else. Her hooded eyes, her slightly flushed cheeks, her parted lips as she came closer and closer. A look solely for him. When faced with that look only a fool would fail to swiftly obey. And so he gathered her face in his hands as hers dove into his hair, and he kissed her, or she kissed him, it didn't really matter. All that mattered was that they were together, inseparable, in love. Her quiver of want and need was his as well, and where their lips met and fluttered against the other, so did their hearts.


	8. uniform

_**The Avatar and Her Idiot: Makorra Month Drabblebending**_  
_Day#16: u.n i fo r m_

.

He revved the engine; it hummed obediently beneath him as he surged forward. For once he was glad for the late hour. It was a shift no one wanted, but the streets were empty and he was quickly gaining on the suspect, who surged forward into the night on his own motorcycle.

"Stop! Police!"

The man responded with a sharp right into a side road and Mako followed, hot on his heels, shooting a powerful stream of fire from his left hand. It was dodged, as expected. Mako smirked as his flames burst against the side of a building about twenty yards ahead, illuminating their dead end. The miscreant was forced to brake, jerking the handlebars violently to the side to avoid collision, jumping from his seat as the vehicle slid into the brick wall with a small crunch. He landed in an undignified slump, chest heaving slightly. Mako took the chance to get off his own bike, deftly setting down the kickstand with a nudge of his heel as he pulled off his helmet. The man remained sprawled on the ground... resting rather comfortably, now that he looked at him. Strange.

"Get up," Mako ordered. Fire erupted from his free palm. "No funny business, or you'll regret it."

The man stood slowly, brushing dirt from his baggy black pants. He was surprisingly short and rather slim, his body language completely relaxed. Mako held out his flame as a warning and approached carefully. "Remove your helmet. Slowly. And state your name."

Gloved hands remained loosely at his sides, but the voice came out in a low purr. "My, officer, you sure look _good _in that uniform tonight."

Mako froze in mid-step, his own helmet dropping to the ground, the flame extinguishing from his fist. Was the felon _flirting _with him?

He nearly facepalmed. Of course she was. He knew that voice.

"_Korra_?"

"Yes?" she replied hastily, sounding far more eager than guilty. Mako suppressed a groan and tore the helmet from her head, revealing a mop of disheveled hair, wayward strands clinging to the fine sheen of perspiration on her forehead, hungry blue eyes peering out from underneath it all.

He actually groaned aloud this time and pinched the bridge of his nose. She held out her wrists and slouched forward, her head and shoulders drooped, looking every bit the defeated, contrite criminal but for the lecherous grin on her face.

"Well?" she practically sang out. "I've been a bad girl. Aren't you going to arrest me?"

He looked up, catching a flicker of crimson tongue across moist lips and mentally cursed himself for doing so. "No," he said curtly. He let out an exasperated sigh. "Korra, you need to stop doing this. I'm on the clock." He shot a cursory glance over her shoulder at her fallen bike, intact but slightly smoking. "I didn't teach you how to ride just so you could do _this_." His eyes flitted back to hers and he scowled as deeply as possible, hoping she would understand the severity of her actions.

It didn't work. She pouted back at him. Oh, how he hated when she did that. He wanted nothing more than to kiss that infernal pucker off her face—no no _no_, Spirits, he was at _work_...

"What's a girl gotta do to spend some _quality _time with her husband around here?" she whined. Mako rolled his eyes, her charade now routine, and mentally slapped himself a couple of times. Out of the six police chases he'd undertaken in the past two weeks, four of them had been Korra. He should have known better. Chief Beifong wasn't going to be happy when she saw the paperwork.

His thoughts were interrupted by a warm, familiar body pressed against his, and then she was everywhere all at once. "Don't look so annoyed," she murmured slyly, pressing hurried pecks along his jawline, her hands making quick work of the buttons on his collar. "We're newlyweds. It can't be helped."

He swallowed thickly, feeling her smile in between the little nips and licks on the sensitive skin of his neck. "Korra—"

"Shhh..." she muffled him with a heated kiss.

And once again, Mako wasn't going to be including _all _the details in his report to Lin.

* * *

A/N: Totally unoriginal, I know, but I wanted to write it anyway. Apologies if it's too similar to anyone else's; it would be completely unintentional since I made sure not to read any other prompts for Day 16 before writing this one. Anyway it was practice... and it was fun lolol.

Constructive criticism for this and any of the other drabbles are deeply appreciated.


	9. spice

_**The Avatar and Her Idiot: Makorra Month Drabblebending**_  
_Day#18: s p i c.e_

_._

Korra had never been one to back down from a challenge. And this, if anything, was a challenge. A self-imposed duty. A trial by fire. An inevitable face-off. An Agni Kai against a formidable foe: the kitchen.

At the moment, the kitchen was winning.

And she couldn't be totally sure it was playing fair.

"Spirits! Not again!" she moaned, frantically bending soup back into an overflowing pot, its edges blackened by layers of crusty, burnt liquid. The whole simmering thing wasn't working out so well; Korra's impatience with the whole process meant the stovetop flames were always too strong, and they only blazed hotter with every passing minute, frustrated as she was. On her left her pork chops hissed and spat in their pan, browning far too quickly. A moment later she wrinkled her nose in disgust, belatedly dousing the flame with a sweep of her hand as those burned to an inedible crisp as well.

A thick, smoky odor permeated the small room and Korra shot an angry blast of air towards the closed window on the opposite wall. The shutters flew open with a satisfying _bang_, but the relief was short-lived when several eggs decided that was their cue to roll off the counter, cracking open and spilling their gooey yellow guts all over her boots.

"Monkey feathers!" she cursed loudly. She'd been saving those for the egg custard. Now it seemed she wouldn't even make it to the dining table, much less dessert. She snatched a ratty dishrag dangling from the edge of the sink and bent down, hurriedly scrubbing at the mess on her shoes and the floor.

A concerned pair of green eyes peeked cautiously out from around the corner, the rest of the burly earthbender edging carefully into her line of vision as if he were approaching a wild animal. "Um, is everything okay?" ventured Bolin, his voice unnaturally squeaky.

"Of course it is! I've got it all under control!" The glare she shot him could cut steel.

He took the hint and quickly backed away with a nervous grin, retreating to the living room.

"Just leave her be," came Mako's unconcerned murmur. It sounded cool and calm to her ears, which, for whatever reason, only served to irk her further. "She said she could do it herself."

"That's right, and I _am_!" she hollered back, bristling at his completely unhelpful attitude. All because she didn't have his homemaking prowess didn't mean he had to _mock _her ineptitude with that aggravatingly self-assured tone. She just needed more practice, more experience. And this was good experience!

The hiss of cooking oil called for her attention. She made a strangled growl in the back of her throat and gave the wok a sloppy stir. That might have been a bad idea. Chunks of partially-cooked vegetable and pig-chicken flew out and landed on the floor ten feet away.

"Monkey feathers on _top _of monkey feathers!" This was the worst experience _ever._

This time Mako answered her cry, his approaching footsteps sure and steady on the hardwood floor. He crossed the threshold of the kitchen and leaned casually against the wooden frame of the doorway. Amber eyes swept silently over the scene before him. It was, quite frankly, a battlezone. He had the decency not to gloat—that wasn't his style, anyway—but no one could mistake the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Shut up," she said bitterly, wiping unidentified goo out of her hair.

"I didn't say anything," he replied evenly, cocking his head at her.

She tossed her spatula unceremoniously at the wall; it fell to the counter below with a clatter. "But you were thinking it."

"I wasn't thinking anything," he shrugged.

"You weren't thinking anything _very _loudly," muttered Korra. A furrow formed between her brows as she placed her sticky hands on her hips, pouting. "It may look like a disaster, but I'm sure it'll all taste fine!" She hesitated. "Well, maybe if you scrape off all the black stuff..."

Mako smiled at her, raising an eyebrow. "Only one way to find out." He stepped over to the stove, lowered all the flames and scooped up a bit of soup with the ladle, raising it to his lips. Korra watched him as he sipped, observing the thoughtful expression on his face.

"Well? It's fine, right? I can take care of this mys—"

"It's kind of bland. It needs more of a kick. Some spice." He reached into the overhead cabinet and pulled out two unmarked bottles, sprinkling their contents into her soup with a practiced flick of his wrist.

"Wait! What are you doing? This was my meal, you said you wouldn't interfere," she protested as she clutched at his arm. Too late, though. "What _is _that stuff?"

"It's my dinner, too. I have to eat this later. I think that warrants a little interfering." He then dipped the ladle back into the pot and stirred vigorously before tasting again. Smacking his lips, he nodded in approval. "That's better."

"What'd you add?" She pulled the ladle towards herself and took a careful sip. Her eyes widened. "Hey, that's pretty good."

"Just a bit of pepper and dried parsley," replied Mako, amused.

"Hm. Nice trick. I didn't know I had to add spices." She leaned her head against his shoulder as she tasted the soup again, savoring the flavors on her tongue. "I was kind of caught up in, um, trying not to burn the kitchen down."

He laughed. "Maybe I should take care of the cooking from now on?"

"No way! If you can do it, so can I. You can teach me."

"And just a few minutes ago you said you didn't want any help." He took the ladle from her hands, replacing it on the counter.

"I changed my mind. New challenge," she replied adamantly, sticking out her tongue. She squinted up at the firebender. "So are you going to teach me or not, Cool Guy?"

He held out his hand, smirking. "Only if you promise to clean up."

She winced slightly and shook it, smiling sheepishly. "Deal."


	10. bet

_**The Avatar and Her Idiot: Makorra Month Drabblebending**_  
_Day#20: b e t_

.

It had all started out as a friendly, run-of-the-mill goodbye kiss. Nothing out of the ordinary for the two of them.

But then he just had to say it, glint in his eyes, boyish smile and all. "You really can't stay away from me, can you?"

She huffed, eyeballing him carefully as she leaned away from their embrace. "That a challenge, city boy?"

"Not at all," he replied, shrugging. "We're too old to be playing 'keep away', anyway."

Korra grinned, ghosting her fingers along the length of his arm, slowly backing away. She was pleased to catch his eyes flitting downwards as they followed the path of her touch. "We'll see about that," she drawled, her voice colored by playful resolve. "Let's make a bet. About who can resist longer."

He looked skeptical. "Resist what?"

She peered carefully up at him from under her eyelashes, smirking. "Each other, of course."

"Are you actually serious?" The firebender's eyes widened almost comically.

"Oh, I actually am," she teased, turning to leave, making sure he could catch the swing of her hips. A few paces down she chanced a quick glance back only to see it was already working; intense amber eyes followed her every move and belatedly rose to meet hers when he finally realized he'd been caught. His cheeks tinged pink and she laughed silently to herself.

They agreed to the terms, and so it began. The rules were simple: No physical contact of any kind. Whoever gave in first was the loser of the bet.

The penalty was even simpler: The loser had to do whatever the other person wanted for an entire day.

Let the games begin.

* * *

A/N: To be continued in the next drabble! I'm a lazy butt, I know, and I'm already losing steam with these prompts...


	11. breath & pulse

A/N: SORRY I was in a... mood. Will get back to "Strength & Weakness" later.

_**The Avatar and Her Idiot: Makorra Month Drabblebending**_  
_Day#24: breath & p u l s.e  
_

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_Who said you were allowed to do this?!_

She hollered at him, accusing. She gasped through her tears. She listened as his pulse slowed beneath her fingertips, shuddered as his labored breath tickled against her cheek; it was the barest touch, a mere whisper, and he was so frighteningly _cold. No. _It was wrong, all wrong, he was never supposed to feel this way, to do this to her, and she held his body tight against her own and she thought she was breaking.

_Just hang on_. She gripped him, hands fisted into the torn, scorched fabric of his shirt, willing him to stay stay just please stay. But he was slipping, he was leaving her, his blood wouldn't respond to her ministrations and now it was doubly her fault.

_You aren't allowed to leave me!_

She was selfish, she was desperate, she would make him stay.

He exhaled once and it felt like a gust of life after these past frantic, excruciating minutes.

But then he went limp. Her throat closed as she lowered her ear, slowly, gently, as if she were just about to fall asleep on his warm chest after a long day at work.

He was ice. She heard nothing.

Her scream broke the silence.


	12. christmas

_**The Avatar and Her Idiot: Makorra Month Drabblebending**_  
_Day#30: c h r.i s t.m a s  
_

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Spirits knows where she found a fir tree, much less a string of lights and a box full of glittering odds and ends fitted with small hooks. The skies were dark and heavy with the promise of snow, and in the blustery evening they worked together until the final ornament was hung and the tree came aglow. Korra stepped back with a satisfied smile, admiring their handiwork.

"It's perfect," she whispered, hushed and reverent, her words a frozen puff of air.

When he didn't respond she punched him lightly in the arm and scoffed. "You're not even looking."

He brushed his gloved fingers fondly against her cheek. "No," he admitted, "I'm looking at something far more beautiful."

"Now you're a liar," she shot back with a roll of her eyes. But under the twinkling lights she smiled and flushed red, and it had nothing to do with the cold.

* * *

A/N: The end for me! Though I'll go back and fill in the blanks, probably... Thanks for reading.


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